Assassin's Creed: Birth of an Assassin
by wandr
Summary: With his family murdered, his girlfriend having disappeared, and all that blood, there's nothing to do but run, and run fast. Assassin's Creed, modern day setting, OC-centric.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer** : Assassin's Creed isn't mine. It's Ubisoft's. I just really like it.

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><p><strong>Birth of an Assassin<br>**

Before him, the land stretched, endless. Hues of dark green, brown, yellow and orange mingled as far as the eye could see, looking quiet and still from this far away.

The man sucked in a breath, feeling his lungs burn in protest. Bent forward, his hands resting on his knees, he tried to will away the throbbing pain in his side. Perspiration moistened his entire body, and his hair was flattened against his forehead, despite a gusty wind. He closed his eyes a moment against the sting of sweat, but was immediately drawn again to the sight before him.

In the distance, the city rose in tones of steel and concrete against the blue expense of the sky, it's hordes of mirrored glass windows seemingly ablaze in the morning sunlight.

Majestic.

Inviting.

But there was no reaching it. Gasping in the frigid air, the young man shook his head, sending a few droplets flying. He'd been beaten. He'd lost. Behind him, the hunting party would be growing nearer, ghosts in the forest he'd just escaped. Escape. Ha! An illusion, he could now see. He'd never really stood a chance. Though for the moment unseen and silent, he had no doubt they were still on his trail.

They were relentless, his hunters. They'd chased him across the province. They'd seem to know his every move the moment he'd made them. There had been no respite. Whenever he'd felt safe enough to try and get some rest, it had hardly helped. He felt feverish with fear, and confusion.

If he'd managed to stop a few of his pursuers the night before, almost accidentally, too, it hadn't been enough. He could still see in his mind the man sprawled below, arms and legs at odd angles amidst machines and lumber, after a five-story fall. He hadn't stayed around to see exactly how dead he was, but it had been pretty convincing.

Anyway, that one had been an accident, a result of fortuitous circumstances, to tell the truth, but still an accident. Unlike the other. _That_ body he could never unsee, crumpled in a heap at his feet, haloed in an expanding red pool. He'd refused to look too closely then, but his imagination had filled in the blanks quite nicely. There had been much blood when the glass shard had ripped a ragged line in her neck.

God… he'd actually _killed_ someone! A woman, too, for Christ's sake! He hadn't known until it had been too late. Not that it would have changed the outcome. It had been him or her. His sense of chivalry was misguided, he knew. Maybe the guilt he felt was unfounded, even. It _was_ self-defence. And they didn't seem to let guilt or principles stop them.

They kept coming, and he kept running.

He was fit, that had helped, but fitness only took you so far. And it offered little protection against bullets. A stupid mistake that was, thinking even for a second he'd lost the bastards. He'd paid for it, too. His shirt and pants were stained red from the consequences. He'd kept running then, but had had little hope anymore. There must have been four or five of them when he'd entered the forest, though there had seemed to be less as he'd moved further in. He was tired. After a while, he'd felt he'd started distancing his pursuers. They hadn't been taking as many shots at him.

And now this.

He shivered in the cold autumn air, sending a new jolt of pain down his side. Adrenaline, until then a constant companion, urging him forward, was threatening to abandon him.

How many were still after him, now? Did it even matter? They were an army against a lone man. They were replaceable. Never tiring. Everywhere.

Once he'd started to notice the trees getting ever so slightly thinner, he'd thought himself, well… out of the woods. A gross misconception, though the forest did come to an abrupt end. Still breathing heavily, he now stood on the cliff's edge, out of ground, and out of options. It was shitty luck. The drop was perhaps a hundred feet, down to the river.

His hand absent-mindedly reached down to the pocket of his cargo pants, his fingers closing protectively around the artefact. He felt his pulse against it, though his hand had stopped bleeding from the shard's cut. It was hard to wrap his mind around it: his life forfeit for such an insignificant bauble. What was there to it that he couldn't see? Once again, he noticed how warm it was becoming to the touch. It might have been his own body heat, but he could swear the metal was never cold when he first touched it, even in the crisp seasonal air.

He'd acquired it in the most peculiar of manner. Everything had been different, then. Mere hours. Hell, _he_'d been different, then. Cockier and more arrogant, certainly. He didn't feel like much now, though. Ignorant, he'd certainly been that. Not that he knew or understood much more now, but he at least was aware there were things he'd never suspected existed. A whole, foreign, dangerous world right under his nose. There had been fear in her eyes, he was sure. He'd dismissed it, but he saw it clearly now. Surely she'd known what she was asking of him, then. But had she realized how close the danger she spoke of was? Still, he'd taken the artefact, with a promise to deliver it into the rightful hands.

And there it was, his goal. Within sight, and well out of reach. A soft chuckle escaped his cracked lips. End of the road. Somewhere behind him, the forest creaked with the weight of his hunters. Any second now, they'd be upon him.

He looked down at the artefact in his hand. He had contemplated just dropping it, back at the bus station. Almost did. Would they have been content to just retrieve it and leave him alone? He hadn't thought so. And he couldn't do this to her. He had decided to try and keep his promise. Not that it was going to happen now.

He drew in a sharp breath, pain exploding anew in his side, but he just ignored it. He was beyond that. Resolute, he clutched the small metal object in his hand. He wouldn't look down. He couldn't. He couldn't let them get their hands on it either, whatever it was, and whoever they were. He wouldn't get his answers, and he wouldn't get help. He wondered briefly what had happened to her. Amy. It was too late. He took a step forward, feeling the earth loosen beneath his feet. Blocking the pain, he inhaled deeply, then exhaled.

In one powerful surge, he propelled himself into the air, his mind cleared. For a fraction of a second, he was floating, suspended. An eternity. It felt good. Great, even. No fear, just exhilaration. They weren't going to get him. They weren't going to get _it_. He thought he heard screaming behind him. It almost sounded like his name. Or maybe some bird crying. He couldn't care.

Constant, reliable, gravity pulled him down.

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><p><strong>AN** : _It was going to be a stand alone kinda thing, but as I was writing it, I kept thinking there was more to it and that it might be worth telling. So here it is, as the prologue to a longer story. Again, please review if you liked or didn't like or if you just enjoy saying hello to random strangers on the Internet. _


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N : **Well, that's different, writing chapters instead of one-shots. Although although every chapter can't be action-oriented, I'm hoping I can achieve a good enough balance to sustain your interest while I'm placing the story and introducing everyone and everything. Not sure about those verb tenses, let me know if it gets too confusing. Do review! I don't bite (unless it's your thing)

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><p><strong>Birth of an Assassin Chapter 1<strong>

The man came to an abrupt stop. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and leaned against a low wall, trying to catch his breath. He looked behind him, and let out a small, disbelieving laugh. That had been one hell of a jump! For a moment, he'd thought he might hit the wall, but he'd just managed to land on the roof, finishing in a tumble before awkwardly getting back to his feet, following the momentum.

He looked over the parapet at the ground, stories below, and shook his head. _You're some kind of crazy... Who do you get that from?_ He could hear his dad's reproachful voice as if he'd been right there, his heart squeezing uncomfortably at the thought. His dad had never really understood the reckless habit, but his disapproval had stemmed from genuine concerned more than anything else. He'd tried to get his son to channel his energy into a real sport, but he'd never been a good team player, nor did he show much competitive edge. And this running had kept him in shape, and mostly out of trouble, so dad had been content to just shake his head, tell him to watch his ass and leave it at that.

Still breathing hard, the young man faced forward again, planning his way back down. No acrobatics this time, though. He was just going to climb off, nice and simple. He could see the roof of his apartment complex from here, and there was no need to alarm the neighbours, who'd be getting up by now. Reaching the opposite edge, he hopped down onto the emergency staircase and made his way down to street level before jogging lazily towards the six-story building he lived in.

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><p>He lingered a bit longer than he'd intended in the shower, letting the warm water knead his sore muscles. He hadn't been as thorough with his morning ritual of late, and now that he'd started again, he felt it. But it was nice to run and think only of the next jump, the next obstacle, and not of the last few months. Life went on, and he was trying to find normalcy again. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, willing the thoughts away. Coming out of the shower, he told himself he had grieved, and that he was done.<p>

Now dressed, he foraged through bottles of pain relievers, picking the strongest he could find. That had become part of his morning ritual too, as an attempt to keep the migraines at bay. He'd always had them, but after the plane crash, he'd been raw and hadn't gotten much sleep, and the migraines had grown more persistent. They weren't painful, exactly, sometimes he didn't feel any pain at all, but they did make it harder to concentrate. He could usually tell they were coming by the strange spots of light, sometimes colour, that would blur his vision. The doctor had called them migraines with aura, and explained they weren't dangerous, but they remained an annoyance. Pain relievers didn't always help, but they were worth a try. He gotten into the habit of taking a few pills a couple of times a day. It dampened things up and made his days just a bit less daunting.

His laptop beeped at him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Email. He opened the lid as he swallowed and clicked the notice.

_Show off!_

Two words, that was it. He didn't even need to look at the sender. He smiled. Of course she had seen him. Lately, he'd been making a detour expressly for that purpose. If he'd gone out earlier this morning, he would have been tempted to stop by her place and let himself in with the key she'd given him, a corner of his mouth lifting at the thought. Dammit, he should have anyway. Closing the lid, he grabbed his wallet and keys and walked to the bus stop, checking his watch every few minutes. He'd be late for work if he wasn't careful, and that would bring more trouble than he cared to deal with. He liked his job enough: like his running, it kept his mind off less pleasing things. The money was good, too, and the people were decent, but he couldn't get himself to feel about it the way some of his friends felt about their jobs. He didn't see the attraction of sitting at a desk all day, like his dad had, or his girlfriend. And he just couldn't feel as passionate about his work. He did what he had to do to get by, no more, no less. He'd considered trying to reorient himself, but he couldn't figure out where to go. Nothing really inspired him. Or, at least, nothing that could realistically be turn into a profitable career. Too bad he couldn't make a living running. Now _that_ he could get excited about...

The impact nearly threw him to the ground. _Shit_. He hadn't been paying attention.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" He turned in time to see a man walking briskly away, shoulders hunched and face hidden by his hoodie. He called after him, but the man never turned back. He disappeared from his mind the moment he turned the corner.

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><p>She was late, and he was growing restless. He'd tried to call her, earlier today, but he hadn't been able to reach her. She was with a client, they'd said. She had some desk job, something incredibly boring in accounting. She did try to explain the particulars of her work a few times, but it had bored him to tears. It was funny how it clashed terribly with her fun-loving personality. He just could not picture her glued to her computer, or in one of those power suits, even if he'd seen her in them. Unsurprisingly, he'd figured out meeting with clients was the part of her job she truly enjoyed; she always seemed in a good mood on those days work took her out of the office.<p>

So he hadn't been concerned by her silence. On those days, she became so absorbed as to forget everything else. He'd known she would surface eventually. Indeed, by mid-afternoon, she had called to ask him to meet her in this unassuming little café. She'd kept the conversation short and had seemed distracted. Maybe her meeting hadn't gone as planned_._

He drummed his fingers lightly on the cup before him, his eyes searching the street outside for the familiar silhouette. He'd met her accidentally, months ago, a little before his parents' death. He'd nearly knocked her down during one of his morning runs, while she'd been doing yoga exercises on the roof of her building. He hadn't stood a chance. She'd been stunning in her workout outfit, framed in the orange morning glow, and he'd just stood there, speechless and looking like a complete moron, while she'd given him shit for his carelessness. He wasn't timid, but her intensity had seemed so out of synch with her delicate features, he'd actually been awed by the diminutive woman. When she had finally been done letting it all out, he'd just blink and stared, dumbfounded, until she grew uneasy.

"Well..?" She'd rolled her eyes at his lack of reaction, and he'd found his voice, at last.

"I, uh... I'm sorry," he said, wincing. 'Sorry' just seemed terribly dull and unfitting after all that. "I was just…" He trailed off, running a hand through his cropped hair.

She had lifted an expectant brow, but he'd been about to state the obvious, and decided he already looked like enough of an idiot without adding to it. Her anger had seemed to deflate at his evident discomfort, and she'd just turned and went back inside, leaving him off the hook. He couldn't believe he'd been dumbstruck by anyone, it was out of character for him. He was no don juan, but to just freeze like that... After a minute of staring at the door, he made his way back home, slightly embarrassed, and resolved to change his route, so as to not bump into her again. There was just something about that woman...

His eyes still trained on the street outside, coffee in hand, he smiled at the recollection, now amused by it. She'd looked positively fearsome, that day. He hadn't thought he'd see her again. But he had, weeks later, after his world had turned upside down. After the news came of his parents' death, he'd stopped running and started trying to just hold everything together. They'd been overseas, and the paper work, the investigation and his aunt's reaction had sapped much of his energy. He'd been in a daze since, and had hardly had any time to grieve between work and taking care of the arrangements. His slow pace uncharacteristic, he'd been walking back from his aunt's place, deep in his thoughts when a voice had interrupted him.

"Wow. So I really scared you off, uh?"

He'd stared blankly at the petite woman, whose eyebrows shot up in question. It had taken a few seconds for his brain to recognize her.

"The rooftop? You practically assaulted me?" She'd filled in, her tone mocking, before he could say something. Noting the glint of recognition on his face at last, she'd smiled a truce.

"I'm Amy, by the way." Amy. He'd liked her name. It was short, feminine, like her. She'd offered her hand. "I haven't seen you since that morning. I almost feel bad about it. You must think I'm a major bitch for yelling at you like that." Her tone had been light despite her words, and refreshing to his gloomy mood.

"Josh," he'd finally said, and genuinely smiled back, shaking her hand. She'd had a surprisingly strong grip, and it had pleased him. He had been surprised she'd bothered to talk to him again or even remembered him, considering he couldn't have made a great impression last time. "Don't worry about that. You were right. Actually, I never properly apologized for that, but I assure you I _am_ working on not maiming beautiful girls during morning runs anymore."

"How about you formally apologize over coffee or something?" She'd grabbed his arm, leaving him little choice, not that he'd have protested. He needed to take his mind off things, and she was quite the distraction.

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><p>He frowned at his watch again. Well, now she was ridiculously late, and he hovered between concern and annoyance. He resolved to call her, taking his phone out and dialling the familiar number. It rang four times, before transferring to her voicemail. He turned his scowl to his cup, set it down, and picked up his light jacket before joining the hustle and bustle of the commute home. Half way home, he dialled her number again. This time, though, she picked up on the first ring.<p>

"Hello?" She sounded breathless.

"Hey, love," he answered, hearing the smile in his voice and feeling a little ridiculous for it. She'd really gotten under his skin in the short months they'd known each other. "I thought we were supposed to meet up?"

"um... Right! Right." She cleared her throat. "I'm so sorry. I completely forgot." She paused long enough for a sigh. "The day's been terrible, and I wasn't feeling too good. I came straight home."

"Do you need something? I'm not far from your place, I cou…"

"No. I just need to get some sleep. Don't trouble yourself," she cut him off before he could even finish his sentence. "I'll see you tomorrow night, alright?" She hung up, not waiting for an answer.

He frowned at the sudden dead air. Well, that was a bit dry. For a brief moment, he contemplated stopping by anyway, but quickly dismissed the idea. She'd just get pissed at him.


	3. Chapter 2

**Birth of an Assassin Chapter 2**

"Aw, fuck!"

Again, he checked every pocket, twice. No keys. Shit. Maybe they'd fallen off at work, or at the café when he'd taken his phone out. He hadn't heard anything, but he'd been preoccupied.

Just his luck.

He easily reached above the door frame. There was a small crack there he'd concealed a spare key in. Truth be told, he owned little of value that he didn't carry on him, and sometimes didn't even bother to lock the door if he was stepping out for an hour or two only. Not like his building was the kind of place you expected to find valuables in, anyway. So getting back inside his apartment was no trouble, but Amy wouldn't be thrilled that he'd lost her key. Hers was a little more upscale, a newer thing too.

_So much for tomorrow morning's plan._

Locking the door behind him, he went straight for the kitchen. Coffee alone sustained you for only so long. He opened the bare cupboards, hunting for a quick meal, anything edible, really. There, cereals would do, though it might be wiser to avoid the milk. He sniffed it, just in case, and wrinkled his nose. Yeah, he was really due for groceries.

He automatically picked up the phone on the first ring.

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><p>His great-aunt had always been a bit strange. Bright, humorous and imaginative, but strange. Her gaze had an intensity he'd found disconcerting, even as a child. She always looked as though she could see through you, right down to your core. His mom and dad had obviously adored her, and she them, and he himself hadn't minded visiting her, except when she'd stared at him. She'd look thoughtful, removed, almost calculating, and it had made him just a little uncomfortable, but it would never last, and sometimes Josh wasn't even sure he hadn't imagined the whole thing. She'd usually made things interesting for him. She'd told stories, too. She always had a new one to entertain him with. Cool stories, but completely out of this world. All a bit old-fashioned, too. They'd been about mercenaries, or something like that. A bit on the violent side, but it was always for a good cause. He'd liked them, even though his dad sometimes disapproved of them, or perhaps even more so because of it.<p>

When his parents had passed, he'd been crushed. He'd had a great relationship with them, as their only child. They had still been young enough and full of life, and Josh had had a hard time dealing with their sudden, violent departure, but Aunt Vi, she'd just... Hell, it had been like she'd gone nuts, for a while, ranting about murder, and conspiracies and all sorts of ridiculous hypotheses he'd only half listened too. He'd been tired and confused himself. Eventually, though, the fog had lifted, and he'd felt it was his duty to look after her.

She'd calmed down considerably since then, but the phone call he'd received earlier from the police wasn't going to help. From what they'd told him, there had been a break-in. Some men had busted through the door, most likely a robbery, but Violet had been there, still awake, and she'd fought back. When the cops got there, after receiving a call from a concerned neighbour, whoever had broken in was long gone, and they'd had trouble convincing his aunt to accompany the paramedics to the hospital. And so they'd called him, her emergency contact. He still couldn't believe what they told him, which wasn't much, really, as Violet had refused to answer their questions.

He stopped in the hospital room's doorway, looking at the small, still form of his aunt under the white sheet. They'd mentioned she'd been frantic, with reason, when they brought her, and that she had been reticent to let anyone near her, but now she seemed to be asleep, peaceful and terribly vulnerable.

The lights were dimmed, and the room was silent, aside from the constant, muted buzzes and beeps of the nearby emergency ward. Josh hesitated a moment, not wanting to disturb her, but finally made his way to her side, as silently as he could. He sighed, and noticed the bedside panic button was dangling off the other side of the bed. As he leaned over his aunt and made to grab it, cold hands reached up and clamped themselves on his throat. Two thumbs push down hard on his trachea, choking him. His own hands went up to join those of his attacker, working to pry them off as he fought a rising panic. A second later, the hands were gone, replaced by his aunt's dark, angry glare.

"Jesus, Josh! What is wrong with you, scaring an old lady like that? I could have killed you!" She whispered as he painfully gulped in air and coughed, massaging his throat. "And your reaction time is terrible. That won't do," she declared as an afterthought, trying to find a comfortable sitting position.

"Holy f…" He stopped himself, his voice hoarse from the bad treatment. He cleared his throat, looking warily at his aunt. How could she possibly have done this? Granted, she wasn't your typically frail, old lady, she ran, exercised and kept herself generally fit, even looked younger than her years, but he'd never have expected… "What the hell just happened?"

"I thought you were someone else." She looked sheepish, but left it at that. It was going to be all the answer he'd get on that subject. As much as she'd enjoyed telling him stories when he was a kid, she would completely clamp up when it came to other things, and he knew trying to pry it out of her didn't work.

Violet fidgeted with the white sheets, but then seemed to make a decision. "What did they tell you about what happened tonight?" Worry deepened the creases between her brows.

"They said something about an attempted robbery, and that you managed to fight the thieves off. Now I'm starting to believe it." He dropped his hand, his neck would be sore for a while. "What just happened," he asked again, "who did you think I'd be? Who could I have been that you _had_ to choke? You're in the hospital, now. You're safe. There are doctors and nurses everywhere."

"Listen, Josh, those men were most definitely not thieves. These people, the doctors and nurses, you can't trust them. Not even the cops, Josh. Especially not the cops. There's…" Violet sighed, suddenly looking older and defeated. "I was trying to keep you away from all of this. All this time I've been trying to…" She paused, as if unsure what she'd been trying to accomplish, and Josh felt sorry for her, pained to see her so confused. "…but there are things that I suppose I must tell you, now." She gathered her thoughts for a few seconds, trying to decide where to start. "You understand that there's a lot happening in this world that most people are blind to, right? A constant, hidden struggle for power, influence…"

"You mean, secret organizations, like the CIA?" He wasn't quite sure where she was going with that.

"Secret organizations, yes, but not necessarily those you're thinking of. There are entities, buried deeper than one would imagine, whose goal is to infiltrate every sphere of power. They would control everyone, and everything…"

Wow. She sure didn't beat around the bush. He'd never have pegged her for a conspiracy theorist. He was getting concerned she might have received a hit to the head. She was delusional. "Auntie Vi, I think maybe you had a bit of a shock, tonight. Maybe… maybe I should let you get some rest, now, no?" He would have offered getting a nurse, but he didn't think it would go over well after what she'd just said.

"Stop being an ass," she admonished uncharacteristically, "they barely touched me, I'm fine. And I'm perfectly lucid, thank you. Now, _listen_. Those men, they were from such an organization. The worst of them: they were Templars."

The word has instantly conjured the image of an old knight in white robes over chainmail, sword at his side. It was ludicrous. He might have laughed if he hadn't been so concerned for his aunt. He opened his mouth to protest, but the look she shot him shut him up. With a wave of his hand, he signaled she could continue her story.

"Yes, Josh, you heard me right. _Templars_. Those very men you're thinking of, except their order didn't die with the Crusades. They evolved, and they were unmatched at it." In a hushed voice, she went on to explain that, shrouded in secrecy, they'd thrived, inserting their members among the world leaders, scientists, financiers, thinkers. They'd been behind many technological leaps, behind many wars and coups. But there was so much more they'd done in the shadows, manipulating events and people to further their own advancement. Thankfully, there were those who saw through the veil of lies and worked to keep them in check. An order who truly sought to help the world towards peace, and balance. The Assassins.

That was more than he could compute in so short a time, and he held up a hand. "Assassins? Really, Aunt Vi? First, knights, and now assassins? And _they're_ the good guys?" It was pure nonsense. Yet he could see she truly believed what she was telling him, as farfetched as it may have sounded. However strange the tale, she had no reason to cook up any lies, especially not something as intricately complicated as she was telling him now. Yes, she'd been great at telling stories in the past, and had been full of them, but never had she advertized them as the truth.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He decided to just go along. "Okay, fine. Let's pretend this all make sense and doesn't contradict… well, everything. What does this have to do with you? What would an ultra-secret organization want from _you_?"

"From a batty old lady, you mean?" A hint of a smile floated on her face, and he knew for sure, then, that she was all there. He didn't understand what the hell was going on, but this was no delusion. He could leave now, turn on his heels and let the personnel deal with this, or stay. He just couldn't imagine himself doing the former, though, so his decision was made.

He smiled apologetically, letting her know she had his full attention. He braced himself for the rest of that story.

"I understand that this sounds terribly unlikely, and the next bit isn't going to go down easy either, but those men were there tonight because I'm one of them. The Assassins, I mean," she quickly specified, and even though he'd expected to be shocked, Josh struggled to keep his features neutral and his mind open. "Well, at least, I was, once. A long time ago. And I was a rather good one, too, if I do say so myself," she perked up. "But I, well… I disagreed with some aspects of the order. And after a time, I… left. I got myself a new life, a good one, too!"

"You left? Why?" Josh was picturing some kind of mafia, still trying to fit his aunt in there. "Surely you can't just leave people like that, especially if you were… well, if you did…" He couldn't quite bring himself to accept that his great-aunt might actually have killed people. "Wouldn't it have been easy for people with those kinds of means to find you? Wouldn't your family be the first place they'd look for you?" He felt an uncomfortable tingling at the base of his skull, and she, too, seemed to grow uncomfortable at that. And another thought struck him. "You're not really my aunt, are you?"

She hesitated for just a heartbeat, looking infinitely sad. "No. No, I'm not. But know that I dearly loved your parents, Josh, and you too. I never meant for them to come to harm. I thought I could keep them safe. And now you're all that's left to me. And I obviously can't protect you, anymore." She reached under the hospital sheets and produced a small leather pouch. "Josh, you know I don't think your parent's death was an accident."

"The investigation concluded it was a human error, Aunt Vi. You're not to blame for the crash, the pilot was. I mean, surely your Templars couldn't ha..."

"They were sending me a message," she interrupted him, regret coating her words. "They know who I am. They want something from me. Something I shouldn't have taken from my people when I left. I doubted, and I shouldn't have. I need you to do something for me." She showed him the small bag. "This is what they're after, the Templars. No, it doesn't matter what it is or what it does," she added, knowing he'd been about to inquire. "I need you to bring it back to its rightful owners. You _must_ get it to them. Only they can keep it safe, now."

Violet took his hand, gently dropping the pouch in it and closing his fingers over it. She gave him a name, and an address, some 400 kilometers away, making him memorize it, and urged him to get there as quickly and safely as he could. Someone would be waiting for him there, she'd make sure of it. He started to protest, but she clucked at his concern for her safety, assuring him she had managed until then, and would manage still.

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><p><strong>AN:** Ok, I have to say I found the last two chapters harder to write as they're more an explanation and positioning. Hopefully they do a good job of explaining just enough, but not too much. The 3rd chapter has been written already and should be tweaked and posted this weekend or early next week. It practically wrote itself. Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 3

_**A/N: **Thanks Haley for the reviews! This is where things start to move a bit more. To think that I expected this to fit into a couple of paragraphs. It turned into 2000+ words... Dont' hesitate to give advice, suggestions, etc. Thanks for reading!_

_**Disclaimer: **AC belongs to Ubisoft_

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><p><strong>Birth of an Assassin Chapter 3<strong>

As incredible as his aunt's story had been, he couldn't help but believe her. It was unsettling, and he couldn't quite wrap his head around some of the things she'd said, but he was convinced she hadn't been lying, or delusional.

Josh took out his phone and opened the browser. He could probably still catch a bus or a train. He'd be there before sunup, and back tomorrow night. At most, he'd miss a day of work, but could probably make it back in time to see Amy. He checked his watch against the bus schedule, relieved to see it was still early enough for him to catch the last bus out. The one before that might be doable, too, but he wanted to stop by Amy's and then grab a change of clothes from home before leaving. With everything that had happened, he was still wearing his work clothes. With a few hits on the touchscreen and silent thanks for the wonders of technology, he bought a ticket. He'd only need to stop quickly by the counter to get the ticket and be on his way. Simple. Effective. He liked that.

His phone still in hand, he called work. It'd be closed by now, of course, but they'd get his message in the morning. He claimed a family emergency; it was true enough, though he wouldn't expand on it on the answering machine. No need. Luckily enough, his bosses didn't ask many questions, as long as you were reasonable. Real life happened, and they understood that. As for Josh, he barely ever took any time off, and he wasn't worried. He'd think of a good story on his way back.

Next was Amy. His steps had already taken him there. He supposed it was unnecessary to stop by her place, as she'd cancelled their plans and would likely be holed up for the night, but it gave him a convenient excuse to see her, even just for a few minutes. He could see the light was on in her living room window, around the thick, closed drapes. She hated to think people in neighbouring building could see into her apartment after dark, and always made a big thing of her privacy. He bypassed the elevator, climbing the stairs two at a time. He'd just tell her he had to take care of some small problem for his aunt, nothing dramatic; she'd understand.

Considering Aunt Vi's state of mind after his parents' death, he'd at first been disinclined to bring her and Amy together, despite both women's curiosity towards each other. He'd liked Amy immediately, and feared meeting his interesting, but still strange and, at the moment, very distraught aunt might work against him. He'd figured it might be better to wait a little to tell her about his aunt and her quirks. He needn't have worried, really. Later on, when he'd opened up about her, Amy had actually seemed to find it endearing, the way he cared for her, and had insisted she'd love to meet her, so he'd started thinking of introducing them. He just hadn't gotten around to it, yet.

He ran a hand on the side of his neck, where he was certain there would still be red marks, and he hoped he wouldn't have to explain them yet.

A few feet from Amy's door, he absently dug in his coat pocket for the key, before remembering its loss. With a soft curse, he thought maybe he'd better omit telling her about it for now if she was feeling under the weather. She wasn't expecting him after all, so he'd just be polite and knock, which he promptly did, and waited. A minute went by. He couldn't hear anything from the other side of the door, but the soundproofing was good, here. The building had been constructed recently in a modern style, and the sound proofing and other privacy protection attributes had been a big part of the marketing. He wouldn't hear a thing until she was unlocking the bolt. So he knocked again, his eyes dropping to his phone to keep track of the time.

There was still no answer. If she hadn't been feeling well, maybe she'd fallen asleep on the couch. It wouldn't be too hard for him to find a way unto her roof and climb down on her balcony, and wake her up by knocking there. He chuckled. _Nah.__Maybe__a__bit__much_. He'd see her tomorrow night, anyway.

As an afterthought, he tested the doorknob as he backed away to leave and was surprised to find it unlocked. The door opened an inch, and he paused as he called out her name.

"Amy?" A moment passed, and he pushed the door further, stepping inside and closing it behind him. He found himself in the corridor that led to the living room, on the right. It was empty, except for her discarded shoes, as it always was. A waste of space, she'd deemed it. The single piece of decoration she'd ever bothered to install there had somehow fallen to the floor, frame broken and glass cracked. He frowned at it questioningly before moving forward, getting a little worried now.

Other than the TV, he still heard nothing, and called her again, a little louder this time. He peeked around the corner, and his breath caught. On the wall, the TV hung askew, turned to a news channel. The anchorwoman was droning loudly on about something his mind couldn't quite register. Some of the shelves on the adjacent wall had been broken and their contents were scattered on the floor. The coffee table, a modern-looking glass piece, was in pieces. His boots crunched on the broken glass. It looked as though there had been a fight. Hadn't anyone around here heard anything?

He crossed the living room, towards the bedroom, nauseous with fear for Amy. He barrelled into the half closed door, stopping on the landing to scan the room, which he found in a similar state. It was a mess. Her dresser had been pushed hard enough against the wall to leave a hole, and the floor was littered with broken mirror shards and various items. The curtain rod had been ripped off the wall and laid, desolate, halfway on the large bed, exposing the naked window. He barely noticed all of it, though, his eyes riveted on the far wall, beyond the overturned bedside table. It was red with blood.

Josh could hear his own blood whooshing loudly in his head, drowning the anchorwoman in the next room, drowning even his own thoughts. He knew he should do something. Get help. Call the cops. He felt numb as he automatically walked closer, unable to do anything but look those red streaks on the wall. And that familiar beeping sound again. It took him a moment to register the sound of an incoming email, but habit took over his dazed mind, and he lifted his phone, blinking in the screen's glare.

_RUN!__WINDOW!_

He just stared at it, unmoving, until the backlight dimmed. From somewhere inside the apartment, voices, different in pitch than the anchorwoman's, and more crushing sounds got his attention Fear, bringing its healthy dose of adrenaline, finally flowed through him and launched him into action. He pocketed his phone and bolted for the window, slamming it open with way more strength that necessary. The screen was next as the colder evening air blew inside, scattering the last cobwebs of shock. The opening was large enough to easily accommodate him, but there was no balcony here to land on once he made it through. One arm still hooked on the frame, he feverishly groped for a hand hold, any protrusion. He'd heard the commotion in the next room the moment the window banged open, and he knew he had only seconds before whoever was there made it to the bedroom. Dammit! He should have been quieter.

The moment he felt his grip was solid enough, he let go of the frame and let his legs dangle beneath him. He spotted a decent grip a little higher, to his right and pushed on the window sill with his left leg, making a grab for it. From the bedroom, he heard a muted clapping sound and some hushed shouting. He cursed even as his instinct took over, hands and feet searching for the next hold automatically, efficiently. Already, he was above the window, aiming for Amy's upstairs neighbours' balcony. He gripped the upper railing and pulled sharply on it to test its strength as a head popped out of the window. Thankfully, the man's natural reaction was to look down at the ground, where he expected his prey to have foolishly jumped, which gave Josh a few more seconds to swing himself over the railing. He landed with a soft thud, just enough to attract his pursuer attention.

"Fuck! It's him!" The head twisted in the opening, trying to get a better angle. "He's upstairs. Get moving!"

Good advice for them was good advice for him. Josh tried the door to the upstairs apartment and found it locked. _Probably__for__the__best._ That would likely be the first place they'd go, that and the roof. That's where he'd go. So those two exit strategies were out of the question.

Running to the other end, he stepped on the railing again, out of sight of the man at the window, in case he was still there. Careful to avoid bumping his head on the hanging light fixture on the corner, he made his way one floor up once again. He was starting to sweat from the combined effects of fear and effort, the building's rough concrete finish scraping his fingertips and snagging at his clothes. As he reached for the next balcony, he briefly wondered where his pursuers were. And how many they were. Two, at least, hopefully no more than that.

He glimpsed down towards Amy's window on the left, now empty. On his right, the building came to an end; he'd reached the last apartment. He could go back down, go left or go up. Whatever he did, thought, he had better decide quickly. He looked around again at his options. The top of the next building was lower than the floor he was on now, but its façade was even with that of Amy's building. Had it protruded or had it had balconies too, it would have been doable, using the length of the balcony as a lead-up to the jump. But as it was, even if he managed to jump at an angle, he doubted he could reach it. No way he could catch a hold and hang on mid-fall.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a light come on in the downstairs apartment. He briefly wondered what would happen to the tenants, but quickly chased the idea, feeling guilty, but not to the point of giving himself up.

He continued his instant assessment of his options, turning to the building across the street. Obviously too far, and higher than this one anyway. The best he could hope for was to crash in the middle of the busy street and not die, not get run over and hopefully not break too many bones. He sighed in frustration. He heard a thump from below. Although he couldn't hear a thing from inside the well insulated place, the sound of a soft object hitting the window was unmistakable. _Shit!_ He looked up in desperation, his eyes falling on the decorative light fixture. The odd saucer-shaped shade was hanging from the upstairs balcony, out of reach when you stood under it. There was one just like it on Amy's balcony, and he'd often remarked on how the designers must have been high when they'd decided on those. They were ugly, clashing, and perhaps, tonight, they'd save his hide. _Oh__god,__I__must__be__desperate._

He grabbed a chair and positioned it in front of the side railing, quickly making his way again to the other side. Below him, a door slid open, and he vaguely registered someone sobbing as he broke into a run. Giving himself a slight angle, he had barely enough space for a few steps before climbing on the chair and pushing off with one leg, and then with the other on the railing. He grabbed for the light, and his hands closed around the chain, feeling it give a little under his weight. _Hold.__The__fuck.__On._He held his breath as the momentum sent him flying forward, feet first, and then the angle paid off has he felt the swing shift to the left, around the corner, out and towards the next building. He fought to keep his eyes opened, not to lose track of his target, and somehow managed to convince himself to let go of the light fixture as the swing reached its apex. It took him a fraction of a second to realize he was leaning too far backwards to ever make it down on two feet, and he braced himself for the jolt. The breath he was still holding rushed out of him as he made contact and slid on the loose gravel roof. He rested there for a second, trying to get his bearings and catch his breath. He wasn't out of trouble yet, though, and he knew it. He quickly tested every limb and, finding everything in working order, willed himself up and started running again.

Behind him, he heard a man shout indistinctly as he jumped out of sight on the opposite side of the building. Allowing himself a peek over the edge, he saw two silhouettes on the roof of Amy's building. They'd likely seen him come down over this side, so Josh didn't waste any time in climbing and jumping his way down to an emergency ladder. He let himself slide the last few feet down and hit the ground running.


	5. Chapter 4

_**A/N: **Sorry for the delay. Things have been… unexpected, professionally and personally. Hopefully the next one won't take as long, but with MW3, Combat Evolved and Revelations coming out… I might be distracted. Let me know what you think!_

_**Random ****disclaimer**: I don't own anything, I just string words together._

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><p><strong>Birth of an Assassin Chapter 4<strong>

He tried to calm his breathing. He'd been alternating between mad dashes and too-short rest periods, hidden as well as he possibly could, desperate to shake off his pursuers. He closed his eyes, hoping it might help calm him down, shutting off as much stimuli as possible. He could hear them, somewhere to his right.

Slowly, carefully, he risked a glance. Finding the street deserted, he took off again in the opposite direction, at a half-run. He was clear for now, but he doubted they'd given up. Taking care to avoid the pool of light casted by a street lamp, he made his way to the next curb. There was a one-story building there, some sort of store he could try to climb on. And then on the next one.

Nervous, Josh kept glancing behind him, aware it made him look terribly suspicious to any onlookers. He needed to back track; the bus station wasn't too far from here, but it was on the other side of whoever was after him.

As he deftly climbed to the first roof, he couldn't help but wonder. In Amy's apartment, he'd clearly heard the man mention him as if he'd known who he was. _It's him._ What the hell was up with that? Crouched low to keep from being seen, he ran to the back, where he could just reach out and transfer to the next building. From there, he'd have to jump to the next one, but it didn't look too challenging. The key would be to stay low. And silent...

And Amy. He froze and closed his eyes again, slightly nauseous as he remembered the glaring streaks in her bedroom. Not that he usually had a problem with blood, but it was different. It was real, and hers. And he loved her. And… _Fucking hell!_ This whole mess was his fault, wasn't it? His aunt was right. They were after him, now. And they went after his girlfriend to get to him, like they'd killed his parents to get to Aunt Vi. They hadn't killed Amy though. He had to believe that. There'd been no… no body. He swallowed hard at the thought, but he tried to convince himself it was a good thing. No body. She was alive. Maybe she'd gotten away, even. He could still clearly picture the wall. Yeah. There hadn't been that much blood. Perhaps it hadn't even been hers.

Part of him wanted to smack himself up the head for thinking something so naïve, but another part was struggling to find details, anything, to hold on to. His hand absent mindedly closed itself on the artifact. It felt strangely warm, almost reassuring. Any hope. He had to hold on to it. They'd killed his parents, and it hadn't made Aunt Vi give up. He felt rage well up inside of him, bolstering him. The metal was burning his fingers now, and he let go of it with a hiss. He looked at his unscathed fingers, resolute. He wouldn't give in, either. He'd get whatever that damn thing was in his pocket to its destination. His aunt said someone would be waiting for him there. They'd owe him. They'd help him get Amy back. He'd keep the artifact until they did if he had to.

He rose to his full height and started running again, measuring his breathing so he wouldn't get winded. He paused only long enough to listen for any hint that he was coming closer to his pursuers again. He knew he was, but he was hoping he could avoid them for now. He was unarmed, and unaccustomed to fighting in general. Never really had to do much more than throw a punch, but he doubted it'd be enough with these guys. Better to stay out of their way altogether until he had help. He kept running until he ran out of roof. He studied the terrain. He could double back, but that would take some time. He listened intently, hearing nothing out of the ordinary. This part of the city was a little livelier, not quite crowded, but certainly busier than the one he or Amy lived in. Below him, there were people milling about, preparing for an evening of fun, or making their way back home. Looking down at himself, he decided to risk it. It'd be quicker that way, and he wouldn't attract as much attention as he would on rooftops if the people who were after him had ended up around here too. The run had left him a little frumpy, but not much more so than some of the crowd he could see down there. He'd stick out among the business types – overtime was a way of life around here – but he spotted a group of youths he might be able to mix with. Crouching on the edge, he threw his legs over, letting himself hang there for a second, preparing for the impact. Keeping his head down, he drew near the mouth of the alley he'd fell into, waiting for the group he'd spotted to come closer. He almost drew his hood up, but he didn't want to scare them off either. They didn't look like the dark, sulky types. There were a couple of guys and three girls; that would work to his advantage, evening the numbers. He could hear one of the girls laughing, a clear, fresh sound. Sweet. Normal. Innocent. As they grew nearer, he tried to make himself look as harmless as possible. He could see them better now. If he didn't spook them, they'd be perfect for cover. He barely looked older.

He took his phone out, pretending to check something out. An image familiar to pretty much anyone nowadays. Anyone checking their smart phone practically screamed "normal". He let them pass him, not even glancing away from his screen as they walked by, then stepped in right behind the last of the group, his eyes still down on his phone. To them, he'd be just another guy relying on technology find his way. To others, just another guy texting an absent friend.

After half a block, he finally put is phone away, sticking close enough to look like he belonged, without making his decoys feel uncomfortable. He'd done it. He'd lost the bastards. He smirked at the thought. Now, it was only a matter of getting to his bus in time, but that wouldn't be a problem. He still had time enough. He started to relax for the first time in what felt like hours, but had been maybe one, at most, and idly listened to the groups' chatter. For now, they seemed to be going his way, and he stuck with them. They were so… ordinary. So harmlessly normal, and it soothed him, lulled him. It all seemed so surreal; he almost wondered if the last hour had truly happened.

No sooner had he formulated the thought that a sharp whistle, a distance behind him, made him jump. He ducked instantly, turning to identify its provenance, but there, to his left, was the man from the window, eyes locked on him. His hand was hidden inside his jacket, keeping out of view the gun he no doubt still carried, but hadn't dared fire in such a crowded place. He looked angry now, having been spotted. They must have been tailing him for a little while, getting closer. They'd been nowhere in sight when he turned into the street, yet there they were. They looked the part of business people walking back from a late night meeting, except they usually didn't travel in pack at this late hour. Still, he'd never have known they were there until they'd been on him. Josh mentally thanked whoever had whistled.

He took off again as his pursuers accelerated. They were trying to remain inconspicuous, but Josh wasn't going to give them that luxury. There was a construction site, not far from here; hopefulle, there'd be plenty of debris and lumber piled up, and he could try losing them there. Again.

He swore at his bad luck. At least the crowd had kept him somewhat safe, but he wasn't going to risk it. He wondered briefly again what had happened to Amy's upstairs neighbour, still feeling guilty over that, but quickly banished the thought to concentrate on his current problem. He had to disappear before they were far enough from people that his pursuers would feel safe to start shooting again. The construction site was looming closer, and Josh accelerated to give himself momentum. The fence was too high to jump directly, and offered no real hold to climb, but if he timed himself right, he could run up the adjacent building's wall and push himself… sideways… into… There!

He grabbed the top of the curtain wall with both hands, feeling it wobble a bit under his weight. But it was meant to keep people out, and it held. Pulling himself up, he threw a leg over and disappeared on the other side just as a shot was fired somewhere behind him.

"You're on your own again," he was surprised to hear himself say out loud, rubbing his hands to get the sting out. No more crowd. And behind that fence, no one at all. He'd landed in a vacant lot, clustered with various materials. Great for cover, but open; he'd have to cross quickly. On the other side, looming darkly, two buildings were being built simultaneously. Beyond that, a few more streets down, there would be the bus station. But first he had to get rid of them. It wouldn't do him any good to get to his destination with those bastards on his heels.

More than halfway through the yard, checking his progress, he finally saw a first head pop over the perimeter wall. Throwing caution to the wind, he dashed the rest of the way in s straight line, hoping to make it there before the first of them landed and managed to shoot. He barely made it. He took cover behind one of the massive concrete beams as the first shot echoed, spraying shards of concrete against his cheek. He scanned the area. No walls yet, dammit! He moved further in, one beam at a time, fully aware that the others were making good time out in the open. At least, the moonlight didn't filter in much, and he had the cover of darkness, as long as he avoided a few areas lit up for security. He found a set of stairs and decided to try his luck up there. There'd be a floor between him and his pursuers, if only for a moment. He could hear them not too far behind him as he climbed two or three steps at a time. They had to be inside by now; he could hear their indistinct voices.

The second floor was much like the first, open and dangerous, with leftover materials littering the floor, slowing him down. There were more stairs to climb, and again, and again. Before he came in, he'd noticed the next building's upper floors were mostly a frame. With a bit of luck, he could jump on that one from this floor. He doubted his pursuers would follow him. They'd have to come back down first. Josh just had to make sure he didn't give them a clear shot. But first, he had to _make_ it there. At least, this floor offered a little more protection. The walls here were mostly up, which gave him cover, but made orientation a bitch without lights. He stopped dead in his tracks at the end of a hallway, as the floor disappeared. Fucking rotten luck. It was so dark, he nearly didn't see it in time. Looking down, he could see the bottom floor down below, illuminated by a single, dim security light. He squinted, looking across again, trying to make use of what little light filtered through up there. There was no going back, that was for sure; he'd run right into them. And it was too high to jump down the hole. Even if he didn't break something, he'd land on more equipment and machinery. He wouldn't make it.

Squinting across again, he could barely make out the other side. It wasn't too far; the hole was probably an unfinished stairwell, a large one though. He backed up a bit and ran up to the edge again, this time propelling himself across the void. He landed it easily enough, but his feet rolled on something small and unseen, and Josh lost his balance, knocking into a table, the sound giving away his position.

"We know where you are, Josh," a mal voice boomed into nothingness. "Stop running, and we're not going to shoot you."

Josh remained completely still. He dared not even breathe. It confirmed his hypothesis: they were after _him_. What happened to Amy wasn't random. He shivered.

"This is all a big misunderstanding, Josh," the voice continued, closer now, and almost sympathetic. "We just want the artifact. Give it to me, don't make a fuss, and I'll let you go."

"Like hell you will," Josh growled, barely audible. He rolled, taking better cover beyond the doorway, expecting to hear a detonation again, but the sound didn't come. They ha a pretty good idea where he was, but they couldn't actually see him, crouched low on the floor. He could barely make them out himself. He felt horrible for what he was hoping was going to happen, but it was self defense, he reasoned. As he expected, one of the four silhouettes detached itself from the others and came running towards his voice. To Josh, it felt like forever before the man made it to the hole. He could only pray he wouldn't happen to look down and notice the soft light. The man protested as his foot suddenly found no purchase, but it was too late for him to stop. He tumbled into the empty stairwell with a short scream, ending abruptly with a loud crash. Josh couldn't help but poke his head out and stare down for a second, where he could make out the man's broken form, as his team mates swore and made their way closer to see for themselves. Josh wasn't going to give them a chance to notice him despite the darkness, though, and he started making his way towards the outside.

"You think you're clever, uh?" The same voice asked, showing no pretense of sympathy anymore. "You're fucked, now. You'll pay for that."

There was more swearing about the lack of light, the hushed sound of a female voice, disapproving, and the thuds of boots on the bare wood planks as someone attempted the jump. So they were coming after him. Damn! He'd been hoping they wouldn't try it, that they'd go back down to find another way up.

He had to be almost there, now. One more turn in an open doorway, more careful this time, now that the floor had proven itself optional. He'd finally made it to where he wanted to be. After the darkness that reigned within the building, this room seemed lighter, bathed in the moonlight. There were leftover pieces of lumber, bags of… something – he wasn't going to stop to read the instruction, but it looked heavy. Heavy enough to stop whoever was getting closer and closer. They were silent, but Josh could here the scuff of boots on the rough floor once in a while, or a sharp intake of breath. Those bags might pack a punch, but a slow one. They'd be unwieldy, and unless he was really lucky, he doubted it would put whoever was still after him out of commission. But luck hadn't been on his side so far and he dared not count on it.

Scrambling to find a better weapon, he noticed the shards of broken glass. He bent over for a better look, not wanting to make too much noise. He grabbed a piece of leftover fabric and wrapped it around his left hand. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than grabbing broken glass with his bare hand. He quickly chose the biggest, most suitable one, an elongated piece ending in a point. He tested his impromptu padding, finding it satisfactory for now, but doubting it would resist to a lot of pressure. He didn't want to think about what exactly he planned to do with it.

He made his way back to the inner wall again, and slid silently to the doorway, threading carefully so as to not give himself away. It would be easy for them to just shoot through the wall if they heard him. Those bare walls wouldn't stop a bullet. He tried to control his breathing; it seemed loud and conspicuous to him in the silence. They were almost here, whoever was in the hallway. But it wasn't the last room, nor had he offered much resistance up until now, so Josh hoped surprise would be on his side. He remained a few inches from the unfinished doorway, trying to make himself as flat as possible, mentally coaxing his opponent. _Come on, show yourself. Give me something._ Seconds went by impossibly slowly, and as little noise as he was trying to make, he had to remind himself to breathe. Then he heard it, right next to him, that sharp intake of breath as his follower quickly turned the corner to sweep the room with their gun. Barely thinking, Josh grabbed the extended arm with his right hand and pulled with as much force as he could muster, bringing his nemesis, now out of balance, into the room. He then slammed them backwards into the wall, his right hand now pushing the gun arm down, as his left struck, lightning quick, before they had a chance to react.

He went for the throat. He was surprised to realize it was lower than he'd expected, but he instantly adjusted his aim, and swept the shard across the tender skin. It gave with a wet sound as the blood gushed out, spraying his coat. He froze, breathing heavily. It had lasted only a few seconds, at most, but he felt like he'd just finished his morning run. He stared, numb, as the woman struggled to breathe, shock plainly written on her pretty face, his right hand still keeping her firmly up against the wall. He watched life drain from her eyes, and her weight finally registered. He took a step back as her dying body slid down the wall and finally toppled sideways. Josh realized he was still clutching the ruby shard tightly, and threw it away, before doubling over and giving up the contents of his stomach, holding himself steady with the wall.

It took precious minutes to calm himself down and think clearly enough again. He forced himself to look at her lifeless form again. A woman, for Christ's sake. He hadn't been expecting it. He'd just killed her, and it hadn't been as difficult as he'd have imagined. It had actually been a little too easy for his taste, too instinctive. For a moment, he wondered if he was completely insane. He'd just killed a woman, and the gender of his opponent seemed to throw him off more than the act itself. Shock, he figured. He felt light-headed and wanted to sit. He felt his stomach squeeze again, but managed to keep it down this time.

He had to move again. No one else had come behind her, which meant the others had gone back down as he'd hope. She should have gone with them. There wasn't anything he could do about that now, anyway. Him or her. He inhaled slowly, and exhaled. He had to move.

_Two down, two to go._

Maybe, hopefully, he could avoid the two left completely. Emptying his pockets, he got rid of his coat. It was ruined; there was no way he could get anywhere with all that blood on him. And it had suddenly gotten a little too warm. His hoodie would be enough, and a as dirty as he felt, the coat had kept it clean.

He made it to the hole where the window would be, eventually. He felt heavy, but it was just another jump. He'd feel all of this tomorrow. _All_ of it. _Tomorrow_.

As he crouched on the edge, there were those muted pops again, from below, though they didn't seem to be anywhere close to him. Had they met trouble? He would have noticed if the authorities had somehow gotten involved. No lights. No sounds, other than the silenced gun shots. Sudden silence.

Well. Maybe he was catching a break at last. He wasn't going to wait and see…


	6. Chapter 5  Long Way Down

**A/N: **I'm rather happy about this one is all I'm gonna say. Don't hesitate to review!

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><p><strong>Birth of an Assassin Chapter 5<strong>

"Cheap, piece of shit phone," Josh muttered, disgusted. He slid it back into his pocket, and zipped his coat against the cold air. It had probably been crushed by his own weight when he'd jumped on the second building. He might have heard it cracked, now that he thought about it. His hoodie had offered less than enough padding, be it for his phone or his ribs.

Well. It was completely useless, now, the screen cracked, but he couldn't bring himself to just discard it. He could likely still retrieve the information on it, once he was done with the delivery. There would be hell to pay, when he'd get back. _If_ he got back. And not coming back was looking like a more and more interesting prospect by the minute. He should have burned his coat back at the construction site, or something. He was leaving a trace, though perhaps it was pointless to worry about it now. The authorities would look for him the moment Amy's disappearance was reported, if they hadn't found her apartment already. Someone must have gone sniffing over there after what happened to her neighbour.

He looked at his watch again, automatically. Needlessly, too. He had made it to the bus station with only a few minutes to spare, but it was more than enough to retrieve the ticket and find the right bus. He'd been winded and felt like crap by then, having been reticent to slow down much again until he'd reached the station, and only allowing himself as little rest as he could to keep going. If he had looked anything like he felt, he feared his appearance might have raise suspicion, but his clothes had mostly hid the scrapes and bruises, and the clerk had thankfully not seemed to care anyway.

He tried to calm himself down as he walked to the bus. He felt like a fraud among the sparse nighttime travelers, thinking of what had just happened. How could they not see it? Again, he checked that there was no trace of blood on him, but he was sure his guilt was plainly written on his face, and kept expecting that, anytime now, someone would scream. He itched to put his hood on, to try and cover his face, but fought the impulse, knowing it would make him look even more suspicious. His ankle burned like mad where the bullet had grazed it at Amy's, but luckily, he hadn't cracked anything with all that jumping. Small mercies.

Staying out of view, he joined the back of the line as people started getting on the bus. He was relieved to see it was half empty, and easily found a seat at the back, away from the other evening travelers. He sunk there, a nervous wreck, willing the driver to start the engine and be on his way. Within minutes, his wish was granted, and he finally closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the seat. He was safe.

* * *

><p>He awoke with a start to the sound of screeching tires, and immediately grabbed the seat in front of him as he felt himself swerve and lurch sickeningly. For a moment, all was confusion, his ears filled with the frightened screams of his fellow passengers, his heavy eyes unseeing. His tenuous grip on the seat failed, and he found himself launched into the center aisle as the vehicle toppled. His head hit the next seat as the events that led him here came back in a flood. <em>Shit!<em> He was wide awake, now. What the hell was going on? He'd fallen asleep almost immediately after departure, exhausted. It had been like his body had just shut down. Even now, he felt like he'd just barely closed his eyes for a few seconds. But that didn't give him any insight into what had sent them careening off the road. Simple accident? No. His luck just couldn't be _that_ bad. Could it? Jesus, he had to be the unluckiest man alive. Or… Well… Ok, he was pretty sure someone somewhere was worse off, but that gave him little comfort. He still had the shittiest luck.

Yet, those men hadn't been there, at the station, he'd been sure of it. He had waited in the shadows long enough to be certain none of the two remaining men had followed him. At least, he was completely certain the man from the window hadn't been there. He would have recognised him right away. He hadn't gotten that good a look at his fellows, though, and had no idea which had fallen down the elevator shaft or which one remained, but still. He would have noticed him, right?

He wasn't so sure anymore. He'd thought the muffled pops had been gun shots; that somehow they'd been delayed, or even better, stopped, irrevocably. Josh cursed himself. He should have known better.

The rolling motion continued as the sliding bus touched the highway's shoulder and fell into the ditch in a shower of glass, finally resting upside down. Josh just had time to grab the seat's metal frame before being thrown like a puppet again. He stayed there, suspended for a second, as the bus settled, braced against another jerk that didn't come.

He had to get the hell out.

His head throbbed, both from the impact and a fatigue-induced migraine, lancing. It was dark, but he could see the blue tinge form of his fellow passengers as they lay, some motionless, other struggling to stand, like him. The hues seemed more intense than usual, brighter. He shook his head, hoping to dispel the effect, fruitlessly.

He dropped on the ceiling amidst the cries and moans of the other passengers. It was still dark and whatever light might have been on as he slept, they were out now, but the world outside seems ever lighter, a sign of the impending dawn. Somehow, that gave him a measure of comfort. And it occurred to him his migraine might not be such a bad thing, right then. This was seriously messed up, and between the auras and the coming dawn, maybe he'd more easily avoid bumping into people or trampling the injured laying all over.

He briefly thought of exiting through the broken window, but it was partially blocked by the sloping ditch, which narrowed his escape path. It was a risk. If he cut himself on the glass, he might seriously hurt himself and bleed out. On the other side, the windows were in a better shape, and tilting away from the slope, giving him more manoeuvrability. He had no idea where those who were after him might be, but he'd bet on the roadside. By now, he was convinced that hadn't been just an accident. Really. His luck _couldn__'__t_ be that bad. Not that he'd wait to find out anyway.

His hands slipped on the handle as he tried to pull on it, as per the instruction written in bold capitals. Good thing they wrote that in a large enough print, practical for the panicked bus crash victim. Or attempted homicide victim. That was good too. That worked. He feverishly grabbed at the lever again and managed to dislodge it, pulling on it and pushing the window out of his way. He didn't waste any time exiting as the glass swung away, and let it fall behind him, mentally apologising for the lack of courtesy. He was raised better, but his parents had had no lesson on good manners while on the run.

"Fucking sue me", he muttered with a sigh as he flattened himself against the slope. He was facing the highway. Chances were his attackers would be… yes! There! Dark car and silhouettes he could easily make out, now, against the coming dawn. Even more so with the… auras. Red. He blinked against this new input. Red auras had always been rare in the past. Mostly pinkish rather than a vivid red, too. He'd never paid much attention to the colors, anyway, thinking them just the random result of a chemical reaction in his brain. This morning, though, they felt different. Deeper. More urgent. The glaring color felt like a warning. They had to be the bad guys, the red ones. That's how it always went, no? That one was definitely holding a gun, and coming this way. Crap. He was sure of it, now. Sure enough anyway. That would mean there were four, maybe five of them; though that he couldn't tell with as much certainty. He felt dizzy.

Why the guns out in the open? There were few cars at this hour, but surely some good Samaritan would stop to help. He could see blue people coming too. Yet they weren't bothering to hide their weapons, now? Jesus! These guys were freaks. What _was_ that thing in his pocket?

Josh slithered lower in the ditch and quickly turned behind the back of the bus. He hadn't seen any sign of civilisation on the other side and didn't expect any on this one. He wondered a moment whether that was good or bad. The exploding windows had covered him in superficial cuts and scrapes, so there'd be no hiding in plain sight anymore, that was certain. His clothes were covered in mud. He couldn't expect help, voluntary or otherwise, from anyone the moment he was away from the scene of the accident.

And he couldn't expect any even here. These guys meant business. He wasn't sure they'd keep from firing their guns in public. Then again, no urbanisation meant the highway would likely be bordered by trees, and trees meant cover. How good depended on how big the forest was and, once on the other side, what lay ahead. It was a gamble, but he had no other choice. If it was almost dawn, Josh reasoned, then they'd almost arrived at their destination. Hopefully, he'd be greeted by the city outskirts. But for now, he had to get out of this.

The angle of the bus kept him from view as he took cover on the far side now, but a quick look over the edge of the ditch revealed a ten metre expanse of wild grass before the first trees. Not being seen was probably too much to hope for. They'd caused this, and Josh doubted they were going to leave without the artefact. He burned to take a closer look at it. If he hadn't been too curious before, he now wished he knew what the hell he was risking his life for. He'd demand answers once he delivered it. He had so many questions, he wouldn't know where to start, but he'd get answers.

He could crouch now, still protected by the bus' massive frame. Considering how many were after him, it would have been foolish to hope they'd all look elsewhere. Had there been one or two, he might have tried to cut the chase short, like he'd done earlier. As horrified as he might be by what he'd done, part of him felt numb and uncaring. Had to. What's one more, uh? But no. They had superior numbers once again. And obviously _they_ knew what they were doing. He'd slow himself down. They'd just get closer.

People were starting to extricate themselves from the bus in greater numbers now, and those who could were helping those who'd suffered more from the crash, giving the scene a surreal and chaotic atmosphere. Josh got to his feet and sprinted to the trees, not chancing a glance behind. There was shouting of all sorts already, people calling for help, calling out to each other, but he thought he could detect a different inflection in some voices and decided it was safer to just assume he'd been seen, and would be followed. He didn't slow down as he passed the first rows of trees, relieved to notice they were getting thicker. Darkness soon surrounded him once more, the pre-dawn light unable to penetrate the thick orange canopy. He had no idea where to go from there. He figured his best bet was to turn left and follow the direction of the highway, but he'd been unable to tell how close to the city he was exactly. The deeper he got, he figured, the safer he'd be. Well, the forest seemed big enough to get lost in; surely it'd be large enough to lose them too, right?

Stumbling once or twice on roots, he soldiered on inwards, wary of low hanging branches and the endless obstacles that just jumped at him from nowhere. At least, daylight was making a little headway despite the thick leaves, and as he progressed, he could finally see where he was going. But that meant they could too. He hadn't been wrong, they'd seen him and come after him the moment he'd reached the forest. Josh was tired, dirty, covered with sweat, and felt like an animal. A strange, strangled laugh escaped him as it occurred to him that this was fall: hunting season. How fitting.

He'd been running for a while, now, and hadn't reached the end of the woods. He knew there were still some impressive forested lands around, but really? He'd thought he'd been going in a straight line, but now he started doubting himself. Damn phone would have been useful, right now. Christ! He could sure have used the GPS function. He stopped for a moment, chest heaving, a hand against rough bark for support. He couldn't see them, but he heard them; shouts muffled by the dense growth. Noise wasn't a problem for them anymore, they were most likely pretty far from anything now. Great… He tried focusing on the voices, to get a sense of their direction, but every little creaking sound made him jump. He was about to resume his flight again when a faint, moving glint of red caught his eye. He threw himself sideways to avoid the bullet, scrambling to his feet again. Shit! He hadn't picked that one up, silent motherfucker. His feet slipped on the damp earth as he tried to break into a run too quickly. A second shot followed, and he felt like he'd been hit with a hot poker in his left side. His eyes went wide, and his hand to his side, even as he rolled to the side, behind a larger trunk. With that little cover, he managed to get to his feet again and, trying to ignore the pain, he set off again, praying the next shot he heard wasn't going to find its target. He had to keep moving, he couldn't stop. He wasn't going to make it easy for them. The bullets had stopped coming too. What the hell? Oh well, he wasn't going to question this turn of event, was he.

His hand still pressing against his side, he pushed on. Part of him was curious. He could feel the sticky wetness of blood on his hand, but he dared not look. He feared if he did, it would all be over. He'd give up. But he'd be fine if he refused to acknowledge the blood. He would. He'd…

_Fuck!_

He heard something right in front of him. He slid to the damp ground as he suddenly tried to back track, the landing sending a jolt of pain that obscured his vision for a few seconds. But he'd seen him, standing there. Another suit. Shit he'd practically thrown himself at him. Maybe he should have, too. He shouldn't have stopped. He might have overtaken him. But he was a sitting duck, now. He was done. He cringed, eyes closed, expecting the now familiar sound, the pain.

But it didn't come.

Slowly, as if he was afraid any sudden moves might convince the man to put an end to the chase, he raised his eyes watching in disbelief as the suited form toppled forward. How had _that_ happen? Didn't they even take care not to shoot each other anymore?

He wasn't going to spit on a little luck, though. And this time, he had the opportunity to make a little bit of his own luck. Somewhere in the distance, someone yelled. It sounded like his name. Yeah, he was pretty sure of it. What, did they expect him to answer? He grabbed the downed man's gun. He knew nothing about guns, except the obvious. Point and shoot. Something about the safety being on or off. Hell, he couldn't tell. Guns were not something you generally encountered unless you were a cop, or a soldier, or a crook. What he knew, he owed to movies. And, well… That was of dubious worth.

Again, his name rang, a little closer now. Josh was pretty sure whoever was calling out to him was telling him to wait, or something. Like hell he would. The more distance between them and him, the better. Testing his new weapon, he pointed it in the general direction of the voice and pressed the trigger, half expecting nothing would happen.

He wasn't prepared for the sound, or the recoil, and nearly dropped the gun in surprise.

"Well… fuck me… Point and shoot, uh?"

He didn't pay attention to his pursuer's protests and muffled curses. He didn't fool himself into thinking he'd hit anything but bark, but it was nice to have a little something on his side. A little warning for his trigger happy friends.

With renewed vigour, he launched into a run once again, away from the voice. He was completely disoriented by now. Away from them had become the only reasonable direction, the only one that truly mattered. He'd reach the end eventually.

* * *

><p>He'd been running for a while without any unfortunate encounters. He wanted to think it was a good sign, but wouldn't let himself make the same mistake he'd been making from the beginning, thinking he'd lost them. Thinking he was safe.<p>

The uphill run had been particularly difficult. His side was throbbing. He doubted he'd ever feel safe again. Even when this was over. They weren't just going to drop it. They'd never let him resume his life as if nothing had happened. They'd come after him until he was no more. He wondered who they were, the people he was risking everything to find. Those assassins. He was pretty sure whoever was after him fit the definition of assassins too, anyway. They killed people. They sure tried real hard, at least. His aunt had painted a better picture of her Assassins, but would they truly be different from the killing machines launched after him? How could they ever have operated in secrecy, considering all the damage done in one night, for one man. It boggled the mind. And his mind was grasping at anything to not dwell on his physical condition and not give in to paranoia in the relative quietness.

He doubted they'd given up, yet they'd obviously pulled back. Why? His destination must have been obvious from the beginning. They knew what bus he was on; they knew where he was headed. Perhaps, once it was clear they wouldn't finish him off right away, they'd decided it wasn't worth it to keep searching the woods. They _had_ lost at least one man already, hadn't they? Dumbasses shooting their own. He wasn't complaining.

So he had to find a way out of here. And into the city. He'd have to be careful about it. The trees seemed to be thinning at last. He felt some small hope start to grow again. No rush, now. Cautiously, he kept on going, trying to judge how close he could get to the end of the woods before he could be seen.

He needn't worry though. The forest ended so abruptly he almost passed the last trees even before he realised it. The sight offered to him did nothing to comfort him. There was the city, blazing in the morning sun. To his left, the highway traced a deceptively easy path straight through to his goal.

A hundred feet below.

He chuckled as he contemplated how impossible it was. It had all been. All for this… this _thing_ in his pocket, whatever it was. Whatever it did. It had cost him everything. He'd seen the fear in her eyes, back in the hospital. She'd known. She'd known it would be a costly delivery. Josh wondered if she'd realised just how much he'd lose in the process. It wasn't malice. It couldn't have been. Not from Aunt Vi. No. She hadn't known the true cost or, he was convinced of this, she would never have asked such sacrifices.

And Amy. What of her now. Perhaps she was dead, after all. Maybe he should hope for it. They hadn't given him any reason to hope they'd show mercy. Perhaps it was better that way. She'd meant so much to him. He'd thought they were just beginning...

The voices. Again. They hadn't stopped hunting him after all, had they? If they got the damn artefact, it will truly have been for nothing. He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't. For his aunt. His parents. Amy. The current seemed strong enough. They wouldn't get their hands on that cursed thing. He took it out of his pocket to examine it briefly, shaking his head in wonder. Behind him, the forest creaked and groaned. They were getting ever closer. There was no other way down.

But at least, it would all be over. Soon.

_He drew in a sharp breath, pain exploding anew in his side, but he just ignored it. He was beyond that. Resolute, he clutched the small metal object in his hand. He wouldn't look down. He couldn't. He wouldn't get his answers, and he wouldn't get help. It was too late. He took a step forward, feeling the earth loosen beneath his feet. _

_Blocking the pain, he inhaled deeply, then exhaled._

_In one powerful surge, he propelled himself into the air, his mind cleared. For a fraction of a second, he was floating, suspended. An eternity. It felt good. Great, even. No fear, just exhilaration. They weren't going to get him. They weren't going to get _it_. He thought he heard screaming behind him. It almost sounded like his name. Or maybe some bird crying. He couldn't care. _


End file.
